by Marian Vere
For a moment I don’t move. She’s probably wondering if I heard her. Finally I whisper, “I broke it off.”
“Here you are! Where the hell have you been, I’ve been worried sick!” Nick said, hurrying into my apartment. “You were supposed to meet me at five.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice dry. “I guess I forgot.”
I hadn’t forgotten; I just hadn’t realized the time. I had been sitting at my kitchen table for the past two and a half hours, sipping a glass of wine and staring off into space. My mind had been in complete turmoil: raging, debating, planning, re-planning, and deliberating. I’d analyzed everything Lisa had said to me the day before about marriage to Nick, and I had finally come to a decision.
She was right. She always was.
Even if I didn’t agree with her at the moment, I would someday.
It would hurt, but it was for the best.
I had to end this.
I had been thinking for the past hour or so—since the moment I made the decision—about approaching him. How it would be best, what to say, and so on. I was basically attempting to prepare myself for what I knew would be a horrible encounter.
Horrible, but for the best.
All I had to do was remain constant. Once it was done, it would be done, and I could relax and move on. I just had to get through it. And the best way to ensure that was to be numb. If I could shut down my emotions for the next few minutes, it would all be fine.
Numb I could do.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, suddenly sensing the change in me and looking concerned.
I took a deep breath. “I can’t do this.”
He glanced quickly sideways then back to me, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Then we can just eat here.”
“I can’t do this,” I said again, though a bit quieter.
His face paled as he realized I was talking about something much more serious than dinner.
“Can’t do what?” he asked, a new edge to his voice.
“I’m sorry, Nick, I just—”
“Can’t do what?” he asked again, cutting me off.
I looked down and pushed the horrible feeling welling up inside me off to the side.
It’s for the best.
“The wedding. Us. This. I can’t.” I looked back up at him, which was a mistake. The rest of the color drained from his face as hurt and shock took over his expression.
“What…why—” He swallowed and tried again. “Where is this coming from?”
I stood from the table and took a few steps, neither closer nor further away from him. “I’ve just been thinking and—”
“Lisa,” he cut me off. “You went to see your sister yesterday. Is this her talking? What did she say?”
“She just…it’s not that…I…” I stammered, looking down. I didn’t know what to say to that. I should have realized he’d guess that Lisa had basically been the reason for my decision. Before I could think of something to say, he closed the space between us and took my hands in his.
“Jules, we don’t need her. I know how much her opinion means to you, but we can show her she’s wrong. We can get married anyway, and I promise she will be fine with it eventually. It may take time, but it will work out.”
He looked so hopeful all of a sudden, I just couldn’t…
No, it’s for the best.
I slowly shook my head. “I can’t.”
He let my hands drop and stepped back, running his hands through his hair. “So what, then?” He began to pace back and forth. “Lisa’s going to run your life from now on, is that it?”
“No. I’ve just realized this isn’t what’s best for either of us. I really think that after a while you’ll see it too.”
“I’ll see?” He stared at me with in disbelief. “What I see is the woman I love, the woman I want to marry and spend the rest of my life with! We will have a good life together, Jules. I’m going to get things running for myself, I know it! You know it. Please tell me you still believe that.”
After a moment’s hesitation I said, “I do. I just…” But I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
The disbelief in his eyes turned to shock, and then terrible hurt. “You just…” he whispered, mentally filling in the part where I said I actually don’t believe it any more. The part I had left out.
Because it wasn’t true.
“Nick, I’m not trying to—” But I stopped talking as he came toward me.
He took my face firmly between his hands, and I could see the tears in his eyes.
“We are the only ones who know how we feel. You say you want this to end? Then look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me.”
He didn’t think I would do it. He thought he had found the one weak spot in my armor, and honestly, he had. He knew I loved him, and would hold me to it until I convinced him otherwise.
Oh God, I couldn’t…
No! Don’t buckle now. Stay strong, it’s almost done. Numb.
It’s for the best.
He continued to hold my face, wet eyes boring into mine. I kept my face clear of any emotion and took a deep breath.
“I. Don’t. Love. You.”
For a moment he was still as ice, almost as if I hadn’t spoken. The only movement at all was the tears brimming in his eyes, then spilling down his cheeks. He slowly released my face and let his arms hang by his sides. Without a word he turned and walked to the door. He reached to open the door but hesitated, resting his hand on the handle as he looked back at me one last time.
And that’s when I saw it.
The face that would haunt my dreams for years to come.
The face that would wake me from sleep in a cold sweat.
The face that would cut my very being into shreds.
A face of hurt, pain, heartbreak, and worst of all…betrayal.
A moment later, Nick turned back toward the door, opened it, and stepped out into the hall, closing it softly behind him.
I stood motionless for several minutes, staring after him.
That was it. It was done.
I had done it.
I had held my own, taken charge, and followed through.
It was hard, but necessary.
As I stood there, gathering the strength to move, a thought came hurtling at me. A thought that I had somehow failed to consider throughout this whole decision making process.
I would never see him again.
Oh my God.
My throat closed as I stumbled back into the chair I had spent the last two hours in. My hands began to shake, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from the door.
I…would…never…see…him…again.
What had I done?
From that moment on, “my life” began a not-so-slow spiraling transformation into “my existence.”
I tried for a while. I continued on with my life, trying to get back to normal, but it was no use. Now, the only thing I wanted was the only thing no amount of ambition, schooling, or work could get me.
Nothing seemed to matter all that much anymore. Nick had somehow become the driving force in my life without my even realizing it, and now that he was gone, so was my momentum. I continued to work at my internship at Stauncher House, but I’d lost my drive. After a while I tried to start dating again, going out on Lisa’s fix-ups, but I’d lost my passion. My internship ended with praise for my work, but no job offers. And we know how my love life ended up.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d never been bitter or resentful. How could I be?
It was all completely my fault.
Everything that my life became was entirely my doing.
I hear someone sniffle, realize it’s me, and look around in surprise. The dishes have been cleared away, and somehow there is a caramel cappuccino in front of me. I glance up at Susan who looks at me with sad sympathy and offers me her napkin. Only then do I realize tears are running down my face. I had gotten so lost in the memory; I wasn’t even sure how much of it I had actually verb
alized for her.
I take the napkin, lean back in my chair, and wipe my face with a heavy sigh.
“So, that’s it,” I say.
Susan opens her mouth, but closes it again.
“Go ahead.” I wave my hand in a “nothing you could say is going to bother me” gesture.
“You obviously regretted it immediately. Why didn’t you try to apologize?”
“I thought about it, but by the time I came to my senses, it was too late. I did regret it instantly, but there was still part of my brain trying to convince me it was all for the best. A week or so later when I let myself realize how wrong I’d been, it was too late. Besides, what could I say? It was all too much; I couldn’t possibly ask him to forgive me.”
“Broken hearts can still forgive.”
“I know. And if it were only his broken heart I might have risked it, but it was more than that. I betrayed him. I was the only one who believed that he was going to make it. Believed he was going to go somewhere. Even his sister thought he was crazy, but I was there for him. And when I said what I did…I became just like everyone else. I let him down.”
“And, did you actually have any doubts?”
“I wish I could say I did! Then what I did might be considered understandable! But no! I knew he would pull it off! I knew he would end up being a huge success! But I let Lisa plant an illusion of doubt that was never really there.”
“So you blame her?” There was no accusation in her voice, just simple curiosity.
“No. I know what she was trying to do. She really did think it was in my best interest to let him go. By the time she realized how wrong she had been, it was too late. She tried to make up for it in her own way, which was basically by setting me up on countless dates with countless guys, hoping I would be happy with one of them. I know she blames herself somewhat, but no, I can’t blame her. It was me. I did it. She might have convinced me, but then I let her convince me. I can’t blame her for that.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, Susan more than likely trying to wrap her mind around everything I’d told her.
I had done it. I’d relived the one memory I had been hiding from for almost a decade. As horribly depressed and low as I feel, there is also something else that feels oddly pleasant. It’s as though I could breathe a little deeper and exhale a little more fully.
“And you still love him,” she suddenly states. I twitch my lips into an un-amused smile for a second, and then take another sip of my drink.
Of course I still love him. I’d never stopped loving him. Even during those hours when I was convincing myself that I didn’t want to be with him, I was never trying to convince myself that I didn’t love him.
“Why don’t you talk to him?”
“And say what exactly?” I give her a sad smile. Bless her heart, I knew she would try to find some way to make it all better. Unfortunately, this is beyond anyone’s help. Especially mine.
She seems to realize this as she considers my question.
“Besides, this is my problem, not his. He’s over it. He’s moved on. I have too…at least, as much as I’m ever going to be able to. And the sickest thing of all is that part of me doesn’t even want him to forgive me. It’s as if I’m getting what I deserve. I don’t know.” I sigh as I slowly spin my cappuccino cup on the saucer. “Maybe I have some inner masochist or something.”
“Maybe you should focus your attention somewhere else. What about that Chris you were talking about? He seems nice.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle in spite of myself. “Dump a guy, go eight years without seeing him, then start macking on one of his best friends. That’s classy.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” she says, with an amused eye roll.
“Anyway, he’s not my type. He is really nice, but really shy. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s never been on a date in his life.”
We sit silently for another moment until I think to look down at my cell. It’s eleven ten, and I have to go. I’m in a weird daze as Susan and I walk out to the parking lot. On one hand I’m more depressed than I have been—or rather have let myself be—for years. On the other hand, it’s almost like I have a new lease on my mental freedom. I’ve been avoiding memories for so long, afraid that they would take over, when actually they had already taken over and what I really needed was to set them free.
“Why don’t you come out to Mom’s ranch with us?” Susan says as we reach the cars.
I smile at the idea, truly wishing I could. “I have to work.”
“Well sure, for the next few days. I mean after that. Take a week or two off, I’m sure you could. When was the last time you took a vacation?”
That’s true. I hoard vacation time like nobody’s business. Hell, I could stop going to work altogether, and still get paid for a year.
“Besides,” she continues, “you would be doing us a favor. I need someone to drive my car down.”
“Your car?”
“Matt and I need to drive down together to wrangle the boys, but one car is never enough while we’re there. You could bring mine down and stay a while. You know my mom would love to see you.”
I’m sure she is making the car situation up for my sake, as I have to imagine that her mother and stepfather have a slew of cars that they would be more than willing to loan her if need be. However, since I’m tempted to take her up on the offer, I let it go. After all, I need something to get me through this weekend.
“All right,” I say, “but only if you are sure it won’t be a problem for your mom and the rest of your family. I don’t want to impose.” She smirks. “All right then, I’ll see if I can take the time.”
“Yay!” She throws her arms around my neck. “It will be great! You’ll see, it’s just what you need!”
“Maybe it is.”
7
OKAY, SO TIME for a new plan.
I drive down the secluded road that leads to the estate, enjoying a new outlook. Breakfast was wonderfully relaxing and incredibly emotional at the same time, but it’s given me some perspective—I’m an idiot. I never should have tried to convince myself that I could play off this whole situation like it’s nothing. It is something—to me anyway—and I was naïve to think I could avoid that fact. Furthermore, the bold step I was going to take in talking to Nick and convincing him I’m fine with all of this isn’t going to happen, but that’s all right. It would have been a lie anyway. And yes, I’ve decided to call him Nick, as “Mr. Kerkley” only makes me more depressed.
I’m not fine.
I realize that, but that doesn’t mean everyone else has to. I did well last night, talking and being friendly with everyone. I behaved like a professional, and that is what I’ll continue to do. I’ll be friendly with everyone when it’s required and quiet when it’s not. I just have to make it through the next few days, then it’s off to Susan’s for two weeks—provided I can take the time off.
There is one major change from the last plan to this one, however. No contact with Nick. Not unless absolutely called for. It will take a huge weight off my mind, and it’s not like he’s made any effort to seek out my attention, so I will do the same. If I don’t have to constantly fear a conversation with him, I’ll be able to think more clearly. The day at the beach might be harder, but I can deal with that when it comes. For now, if I stick to the new plan, I just might be able to get through this.
I will get through this.
The rest of the afternoon passes quickly and quietly. Both inspections go well, with only one minor repair to be scheduled. Margaret, Bree, and I spend the later hours reviewing work orders and making phone calls.
The rest of the guests went out after lunch to visit the town and surrounding areas. I’m not even aware they’ve come back until I’m in the kitchen that afternoon, fighting with the coffee maker, and am suddenly joined by Cathy.
“Oh, hello,” she says, as my breathing catches for a moment. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” She sets her bags down
on the counter and comes over, offering me her hand. “I don’t think we have actually been introduced yet.”
No, no we haven’t.
“I’m Cathy Dewitt.”
“I’m Julia. It’s nice to meet you.” I shake her hand, feeling unnecessarily awkward. She turns back to her bags, which I now see are groceries, while I continue to battle with the filter tray.
“I picked up some food for the beach on Sunday.”
“Oh, great. It should be nice.” I’m trying not to let my frustration with the coffee maker show in my voice.
“Do you need some help with that?” She comes over and takes the filter from me. “These ones can be a pain.” She flips the tray, fixes the pot, throws the filter in, and turns it on like it’s nothing at all. “There we go,” she says, smiling.
“Wow…that was easy.”
“I have the same kind at home,” she tells me.
She’s nice. One of those people who just gives off a happy energy. The sort of person who could make you feel better just by being around. It makes me sad I was never able to meet her when—well, anyway, she’s nice.
“You know you shouldn’t put me to shame like that. Getting coffee is pretty much what I get paid for,” I joke with a wry smile.
“Oh, I’m sure you do much more than that! But regardless, you don’t have to feel too bad; it took me a week to learn the first time.”
We laugh, and I step back over to the counter with her and help with the groceries.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Don’t worry about it.” I cut off her attempt to keep me from helping. “I’ve got nothing to do until the coffee’s ready.”
“Well, thank you. Actually, I do have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” I am suddenly sweating. Does she know about me? I mean, I know she knows what happened with Nick all those years ago—she would have to—but does she know it’s me?
“I hope I’m not being rude, I don’t mean to be. I’m just curious.”
Gulp. “What is it?”
